


Thought Process

by Siadea



Series: Out of His Depth AU [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siadea/pseuds/Siadea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro begins to work through his problems about his little brother dating a gay alien. Set after Ch. 14 of Out of His Depth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thought Process

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for homophobic slurs, but you probably knew that. Also warnings for being dangerously close to a songfic.
> 
> I swear I really do write things other than Bro being an asshole with issues. I _do._

Of course you have your own fucking dreambubble. You have a metric fuckload of memories that aren't Dave's (at least, they _better_ not be) and it's back to your goddamn soap bubble you go, once you're out of gay-Dave-and-his-alien-fag's bubble.

The bubbles are pretty malleable, and you're conjuring up the memory of one of your favorite clubs before you even consciously think of anything. Empty, of course, lights down low like you're there before the place opens, running sound checks. You've imagined yourself the best mixing equipment you've ever fapped over, all the songs you can remember, and a head full of the drive to _create._ To do _something._

The beats are already piecing themselves together in your head, straight from brain to fingers. [Revolting Cocks,](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPVC8Y4aJdc) no question. You pull guitar from [Nelson;](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hajTNlooZKE) can't get any more fucking ironic than that, pull it into the right key - Eyehategod and the Melvins give you the death growls and screams that you lay under and over your mix like vertebrae. You're not sure what you want to do with the end, so you leave it alone for now. You're no Knight, and time's fucked in dreambubbles anyway, so you have no idea how long you spend mixing, tweaking, adding some riffs and beats, working the damn thing over so hard it's practically crumbs by the time you're done with it.

Finally, though, there's nothing else you can do to it 'cept transition to the end, and you sit back in the deserted club, soaking in the silence and letting your ears relax before a last listen-through. You set your hands across the tables, and just... think.

Fucking Christ on a cracker, you never wanted this for Dave. It's not like you fagged it up in school before you dropped out, but it took you a damn sight longer than Dave to get your cool on. No matter what, you gave him that much, god damn it: he learned to flash-step by running from _you,_ not the fucking football squad. You wanted Dave to have what you never did; you wanted him to be fucking _untouchable._ You wanted him to put some fear in their goddamn hearts, because you knew they'd hate him anyway.

Your head keeps circling back, though, to the real problem: you hadn't known a damn thing until you saw him mack on the alien. You'd thought it might have been early enough to beat it out of him; get rid of the longhorn freak and shove Dave back towards the joy of pussy. (He was never gonna do puppets; you could tell. Probably for the best.) But no, that worked about as well as an ice cube on Texas summer asphalt. Sure, you got rid of the alien the first go-round, and maybe you coulda hauled Dave back over the line, but...

It'd been like being mauled by a fucking toothless puppy. You knew weakness when you saw it, and that alien kid had been nothing but weak, dragging Dave down. He'd broadcasted that _look:_ 'Please don't hurt me,' 'I never did anything to you,' 'why are you doing this' - fucking hell, you know you'd raised Dave to keep clear of that kind of loser, because if you didn't, you'd become one of them. Fact of life, just like ebola. He'd proven it, too, actually asking you to leave Dave alone, just hang everything out to be pummeled. Fuck no. There was no way in hell you would ever let Dave be that vulnerable, _ever._

So when that cringing nerd kid had shown up with a mecha-hellhorse, a spear, and an assload of white-hot rage, you'd been a little surprised. The kicked dog had some teeth behind that whimper. And apparently the ability to summon giant fucking monster bears to do his bidding, but you were ignoring that part.

It kind of surprises you how OK you are with that. Not that you're a fan of losing a strife or anything, and not that you approve of Dave getting with anybody who leaves themselves wide open like that. But - the little wimp actually manned up and came after you. You did your damn best to put the fear of Strider in him, but he came back for more anyway. Came back for Dave. You figure you can respect that. Especially since it turns out you were already years too fucking late to keep Dave from turning out gay. (You ignorant fucking tool.) Can't blame Nitram for that; you're not a _complete_ asshole. Can't really blame him for chasing after some Strider, either. You figure you can always blame Dave for having a thing for puppy-dog eyes, though. That shit's practically criminal.

You reach out and hit the Play button for your mix without really thinking about it, listening with a critical ear. You're frowning by the time you reach the end; it's pretty fucking raw. Normally, you like your shit a lot smoother, but hell, you might as well finish it. And yeah, you know how to wrap it up. You go for some [shit you grew up on,](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pw6_VXPwm6U&feature=related) fuck the haters. 'Fuck the haters' pretty much covers it, really. Why the hell did you think any kid you raised was gonna be normal, anyway?


End file.
